


Coffee and Stepstools

by Nancy_Jean



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 01:28:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3749869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nancy_Jean/pseuds/Nancy_Jean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a short one shot based off a text post I saw on Tumblr about height differences.<br/>Jean and Marco both work in a coffee shop and Marco is just a bit taller than Jean, but he always has to be getting ingredients down for him. One day, Jean walks into his early morning shift to a small present waiting under neath the counter for him...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coffee and Stepstools

**Author's Note:**

> This was just based off of a text post about height difference AUs that I saw on Tumblr and I neEDED TO WRITE THIS AND GET IT OFF OF M Y C H E S T

      It started one morning around 5:30-ish. Jean was opening for the day, since he was always the first one in, and Marco walked in behind him.

      "Good morning sunshine," He said, whooshing past Jean, that annoyingly-too-happy-for-5:30-in-the-morning tone in his voice. Jean turned around and watched Marco walk around behind the counter and start setting things into place. He watched him put fresh pastries into the display and then start getting out materials. Finally, Jean grumbled out his good morning response and Marco breathed out a small laugh as he rushed past him again.

      Jean looked back up into the cabinet. He needed to get the dark roast beans down for today but some  _ass hat_ decided to put it on the very top shelf. He glared up at it with still-tired eyes and tried standing up on his tip toes again. His tongue slipped out of the corner of his mouth in concentration as he looked up toward his target. He put his head down and stretched his arm up even further, thinking this might give him some sort of leverage.

      "God  _dammit,_ " he hissed, the back of his arm beginning to burn. He huffed and looked back up at the bag of coffee beans. He tapped his fingers on the counter and bit his lip.

      Suddenly, Marco swept up behind him and reached up into the cabinet right over the top of Jean's head, swiping the bag down with ease and handing it gently to Jean. Jean stared at the bag before reaching out and snatching it, grumbling about dumb tall people before storming off. Marco huffed out a small laugh as Connie and Sasha came in through the front door.

      "Good moooooorniiiing," Marco smiled at them. Sasha came up to the counter and set her palms on the counter and leaned across, staring down at the floor behind it. Marco walked over and Sasha started belting out a bunch of words, talking about how her older sister's boyfriend was in town and he stayed the night last night and --  _oh my god he actually liked my mom's cooking i did not understand_ \-- and Marco just nodded along and smiled, leaning his elbows on the counter and resting his chin in one of his palms.

      Connie walked over to where Jean was leaning against the drive-thru window watching the two and stood next to him, also watching the interaction.

      "How do they do that?" Connie whispered, squinting his eyes at the other two baristas. "Be so happy and up beat this early in the morning. It scares me a little bit, if I'm being honest."

      "I wish I knew," Jean replied, looking mainly at the the tall, lanky, dark haired boy on their side of the counter. He observed the way he leaned down, the way his eyes closed just a little bit when he was into the conversation,his smile, his jaw, the curve of his back- He coughed lightly and stood up straighter, changing his point of focus to the little light that began blinking, letting them know someone was pulling up to the drive-thru. "But how ever it is they do it, we need to fake it because the day he starting," he said, pushing Connie over near his work area and putting on his head set. "Good morning, what can I get for you today?"

~~~~~

      It was mid-morning rush, just around 7:15 when all the students from the high school down the street came in, rushing to get their coffee and tea before first classes began at 7:30. There were maybe 8 cars lined up at the drive-thru; Jean was pretty sure he could see the line beginning to wrap around the building. He silently thanked any upper power that his break rolled around in about 45 minutes.

      He tapped the order of the person at the speaker into the computer as Connie slipped him the drink tray of the people at the window and glanced at the next order that he needed to put together.

      "Thank you for being patient," Jean said as he slid open the window and handed the drinks out. "Here's everything, thank you for coming and have a nice day," He hadn't even finished his sentence before the car sped off. He rolled his eyes and began speaking into the speaker on his head set again as he leaned out the window to take the money of the next customer. "That'll be $18.60," the woman handed him a card and he leaned back in to swipe it. "Would you like you receipt?" He asked her, his eyes flickering between multiple points of focus; her, the screen, the printing receipt, Connie rushing over with her drink while someone at the pick up bar yelled at him about something concerning half-n-half, back to the woman in her car.

      "No thanks, but I wouldn't mind you slipping your number into my drink carrier." she said smoothly, glancing up at Jean through her long lashes. That caught Jean off-guard and he almost dropped her credit card. Connie had set the drink on the further side of the platform since he had to rush back to the complainer and it seemed like it was a million miles away. Jean swallowed hard. He felt like his feet were glued to the floor. He felt his face flush and his ears began to burn. The air pushed itself out of his lungs,

      "Oh," he said politely, smiling through the small panic attack that had risen up through his stomach and flourished in his chest. He still couldn't reach the  _god damned coffee_.

      Just then, Marco came swooping by, his long legs carrying him in those smooth, quick strides that always seemed to make it look like he was floating through the restaurant. He hit the cup with his hip and Jean thought for sure it was going to spill, but it slid smoothly across the counter top into Jean's reach. As he passed, some new drink in his hand, Marco smiled over at Jean in that soft, encouraging way that he always did. Suddenly, things were moving around Jean again and he caught his breath. He picked up the drink with the same hand that held the credit card and he leaned out the window.

      "Thank you for being patient," he said with a big smile on his face. "Thank you for coming and have a nice day," he leaned back in and closed the window, taking a deep breath as he watched the car speed off out of the corner of his eye. He paused for a moment before jumping back into his work, distracting himself with complex coffee orders and whiny customers.

~~~~~

      8:30 rolled around and as the crowd slowed to maybe one person every 15 minutes, he mumbled to Connie that he was gonna step out for break and he grabbed his own coffee and headed to the kitchen where he could step out the back door. The cold air bit his nose as he stepped outside into the break area. Despite leaning out the window all morning, he hadn't noticed how cold it was out because of the heat radiating from the work environment. He looked at the sun rising over the buildings down town as he took a sip from his coffee.

      Suddenly, the door was opening behind him and Marco stepped up next to him, a large iced tea in his hands.

      "You know," Jean mumbled glancing quickly down at Marco's cup and then looking back up in front himself. "I hope you paid for that."

      "No," Marco said in that jokingly nasal-y voice he does when he's being sarcastic. "I stole it now I'm drinking it and I never paid. I'm drinking illegal tea."

      "What do you suppose the bail is for drinking illegal tea?" Jean turned his body towards Marco, his head following after a brief pause.

      "Hopefully not much," Marco joked, looking down at Jean with a smirk. "You're too broke."

      Jean laughed and launched a light punch at Marco's upper arm. They laughed as they got into a small playful fight, throwing hits back and forth at each other.

      "Hey," Sasha poked her head out the door. "Our turn for break. You two twelve-year-olds can continue your fight later."

~~~~~

      The next morning was the same, Jean was in first, shortly followed by Marco who had to pull a bunch of things off of shelves for Jean. Sasha and Connie both showed up about 20 minutes late after customers were already walking in.

      Jean stood at his window, marveling at the grumpy people walking into a coffee shop at 6:00 in the morning.

       _How do they do that?_ He asked himself, squinting at the man waiting patiently for his order to be ready who was checking his phone in a bored fashion.

      "Hey grumpy-pants," Sasha walked over and waved her hand in front of his face. He looked up at her, his expression not changing as he switched focus points. "You're light's a-flashin." She raised her eyebrows at him and tilted her head back slightly, glancing down at him.

      "Shit," he mumbled before pulling the speaking piece down next to his mouth. "Good morning, what can I get for you?"

~~~~~

      Every morning was pretty much the same. Sasha and Connie had picked up on the "Tall Favors" that Jean keeps silently asking of Marco and they've started calling him 'short-stack-grumpy-pants.' Granted it's not the most catchy name, as he continually points out to them, but they don't seem to be minding. They just keep calling him that. And even though Jean acts all mad and upset about it every time they walk past and poke a finger into his side with a mocking call of "what's up short stuff," he actually doesn't mind. He's not sure he's ever had a nick name before (besides 'two-tone,' but that's just what his dad used to call him because of the color of his hair, so he's not sure if it counts), and it makes him feel like he belongs somewhere and he really likes it.

      One morning, Jean walked in through the back door and made his way through the kitchen out until he was standing behind the counter. He walked around and did his usual opening routines; turn on the lights in the kitchen, the the ones behind the counter, main lights out over the tables, unlock the front door, start taking out coffee to brew. As the dark roast began to spill down into the pot beneath it, he noticed something under the counter behind him. He went to look at it when the personal phone line back near the drive-thru window began to ring. He quickly spun on his heels, his stomach dropping because he knew that meant someone was calling in sick.

      "You better have a good reason for not coming in," he answered the phone grumpily. "Or I swear to any upper power, I'm going to kick your ass."

      "You can't kick my ass if I'm sick," a nasal-y voice came through the phone (except this time it was deeper and much more serious), and Jean immediately knew who it was. "It would be taking advantage of me and that's unfair."

      "Even better," Jean said. "A weak Marco means I can finally take down a tall Marco." He smiled softly at the ground in front of his feet. Have the tiles  _always_ been that disgusting tan color?

      "Noooo," a small whine came through the phone followed by a short cough. "You will never. I will always be superior. You can't even see the top of my head."

      "Oh please," Jean snorted into the phone. "You're like 4 inches taller than me, get over yourself." He heard Marco laugh breathaly into the phone.

      "Did you see the present I left you under the counter yet?" Marco asked.

      "Ahh, I caught a glimpse," Jean sighed, beginning to rock back and forth on his heels. "But I haven't really looked at i-"

      "Okay well go do that, I'll see you in two days when I'm done being sick bye!" Marco's words came out in a rushed storm and Jean almost didn't understand them. All of a sudden he was getting a 'call disconnected' tone in his ear. He slowly took the phone away from his head and looked down at it quizzically. That was... odd.

      "Looks like I need to call in back up..." He mumbled, typing in the only number of another worker that he bothered to remember.

      After he was done doing calling in extra help, he turned around a that's when he saw...  _it_.

      It was some sort of old step stool that had been painted a bright red color and on the side facing him was his name is big, blocky, foam, pink letters.

      "Oh my god," He breathed quietly. Upon closer inspection, he found that Marco had draw shitty small butterflies, bees, flowers, and rainbows  _all. Over. It._ It was super hideous. On top of it was a small note and he picked it up to read it.

 

                          _Dear Jean, (hah)_

 _I've noticed that you seem to have a bit of trouble reaching things that have to be placed on higher up shelves and I thought you maybe needed a little bit of a boost to help you out so that I'm not constantly having to. (Not saying that I mind, really. I just assume you're embarrassed always having to ask your super tall boyfriend to get everything for you.) So I made you a little stool. It's an old one that's no longer needed in my house (since we're all_ soooo _tall (; ), so I took it and slapped your name on it and drew all over it and I brought it here so that you could use it. You're welcome._

_P.S. I bet you're gonna look super cute still struggling to reach things on it._

_Love,_

_Marcoxx_

Jean laughed and tucked the note into a pocket on his apron. He looked down at the stool.

      ... _I don't need that thing..._ he thought.

~~

      A couple of days later, Marco walked in to see Jean standing on tip toes on top of his new little stool, reaching for the dark roast.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know what happened honestly. Please help im in to the ship too deep.


End file.
